words create worlds
It only seems to be the end of a beginning lost in space- the single breath the story began with; the tear from the awakened eye- the mother of the oceans, the father of the skies. The root of the eternal wisdom, encircling the space of forms, continually expands. Three times the power of the
Confined, a part of infinite yet finite in a form, osmotic cosmos only our hearts would know while our limbs, our thoughts and feelings- designed by numbers, equations, laws of ancient pasts remain contingent on the lowest light. What would it take to exit from the loop? Cutting the cord, renouncing a body pinned on the
Worlds of Words 